


take my hand

by bi_lovely



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gun Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Original Character Death(s), but beware, enjoy :), its cute for like 2 seconds then you cry, live action singing, lyrics taken from other parts of the movie, the graphic violence isnt all that violent, the national guard sucks, there are guns and shooting and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8745022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_lovely/pseuds/bi_lovely
Summary: "Take my hand," Enjolras sang and he slipped Grantaire's fingers through his own. He squeezed and smiled into Grantaire's face. "I'll lead you to salvation."





	

A drunken fool. A drunken fool was all he was, all he would ever be able to be. 

He'd passed out in the cafe. He'd gotten drunk and passed out before the final battle, and he had woken to find the streets decorated with the blood and bodies of his friends. 

His lip curled in disgust as he hurled the bottle in his hand against the wall, watched it shatter into a hundred pieces, watched what was left in the bottle splash all over the floor. 

He screamed in frustration. He screamed in anguish and desperation. He screamed in self-hatred — self- _ loathing _ . 

He sobbed, and he screamed, hot tears burned his cheeks. He fell to his knees and yanked at his hair, and screamed and screamed and screamed and — 

Voices. Footsteps. 

He looked upward slowly. Voices —  _ angry _ voices — were coming from upstairs. He was sure of it. 

He leapt to his feet and ran. He raced up the stairs, coming close to face planting, and skipped three steps leaping onto the landing. 

The sight he was met with was the men of the National Guard staring straight at him, ready to fire their weapons that — though they were looking away — they had aimed at the blond man standing by the window. 

The man was looking down, red flag grasped tightly in one hand. As he slowly looked up, it became noticeable that he had a look of defeat in his eyes that didn't fit him at all. 

"Grantaire," the man said and something happened in his eyes. 

"Enjolras," Grantaire couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. 

Grantaire strode past the guards, pushed them aside with such reckless abandon because he knew — he  _ knew _ — that all he needed to do was get to Enjolras. Get to Enjolras and everything would be okay. 

He walked up to him and tried to find the words to say. The _ right _ words to say.

What to say, though? They were so many things left unsaid between them? Too many words left unspoken. 

Their time was up, there was no turning back now. There wasn't enough time left to say all the things that needed to be said. 

So what to say? 

Grantaire looked into Enjolras' eyes and a sense of calm filled him. He smiled. 

Enjolras. That was all he need in his final moments. 

"Do you permit it?" Grantaire asked and immediately realized that sounded stupid. Enjolras wouldn't know what he meant, he wasn't a mind reader, he wouldn't know what — 

"Take my hand," Enjolras sang and he slipped Grantaire's fingers through his own. He squeezed and smiled into Grantaire's face. "I'll lead you to salvation." 

Grantaire beamed. "Take my love," he sang, "for love is everlasting." 

"And remember, the truth that once was spoken." Enjolras gripped the red flag a little tighter. "To love another person is to —" 

Enjolras choked back a sob and swallowed the rest of his song. He looked into Grantaire's eyes and for the first time, he looked  _ afraid.  _

He was ready to die for his cause. He'd been telling everyone who would listen for months that he was prepared to die for the sake of France, and Grantaire had believed him. Grantaire had never doubted for a second that Enjolras would go down without an ounce of fear or regret. 

But now they were here, hand in hand, looking into one another's eyes, on the business end of a dozen bayonets, and Enjolras spoke novels with his eyes. 

He spoke words of love and words of revolution, words of sacrifice and of legacies. And for the first time, without making any sound at all, Enjolras spoke words of fear. With his eyes he told Grantaire all of the things he would never dare to say aloud. With this beautiful eyes, he spoke of how ready he had been to die, of how now that the moment was here he wasn't ready, he didn't want to go, he was  _ scared!  _

"To love another person," Grantaire sang soothingly, bringing his free hand up squeeze Enjolras' shoulder, "is to see the face of God." 

_ BANG. BANG. BANG.  _

They fell, bleeding, dying. They crashed to the floor as the guards — their  _ murderers _ — retreated down the steps of the cafe. 

Enjolras drew a ragged breath and clung to Grantaire's hand a little tighter. "R?" 

There was no answer. 

"Grantaire?" 

Still, no reply came, and no reply would ever come for the light was gone from Grantaire's eyes, his body was limp and lifeless. 

Enjolras closed his eyes. "Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men." 

He was fading fast. 

"It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again." 

There was a light. A bright white light and it was warm and it was good. 

"When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums — "

He would be gone soon. He would gone, he would be with Grantaire,and then there would be time. Time to say all the things they'd always left unsaid. 

" — there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes." 

**Author's Note:**

> all the love xx


End file.
